Sometimes a snow day can be a great thing for one's creativity. Here's another installment for you.
Yukari's head was spinning by the time the huge vehicle pulled away from Tommy and Vicky's school. Mrs. Brown throwing away all of her panties and then making her wash the last pair by hand was baffling enough, but Vicky's behavior that morning was downright unsettling. The much bigger girl had been acting so nice, where she'd practically ignored Yukari all weekend, but she was treating her like a very small child, which was decidedly uncomfortable, and Vicky seemed completely disinterested in her protests against it. Yukari supposed it was better than all the yelling and standing in corners and the humiliation, but she couldn't help but be nervous about Vicky's motivations.
Worse, there was the threat still weighing heavily on her mind. Mrs. Brown had told her clearly that another wetting incident would land her in “pull-ups” all the time, and Yukari had no doubt she'd make good on that threat, but now she had to fear what Vicky would do if she didn't wet her pants. Somehow she was certain that the embarrassing underwear would be the least of her worries at that point.
Then there was the matter of school itself. Why had Tommy and Vicky gone to school, yet here she sat, still buckled in the back seat of Mrs. Brown's truck? Wasn't she supposed to go to school too? So many questions, so much to worry about, so much to fear, Yukari felt like her head was going to explode from all the thoughts running around inside of it.
“Yukari? Are you listening to me?” Mrs. Brown suddenly cut through the noise.
“Sorry Missers Brown,” she offered. “Yukari no hear you.”
“I said, I have a … this morning at work, and you are going to sit in my … and wait quietly,” Mrs. Brown said, very, very slowly. “When I am done, I am going to take you to school to get … so you can go to classes tomorrow. Do you understand?”
“Yes Missers Brown,” she replied.
“Good, because you are going to be a very unhappy little girl if you cause me any trouble at work. Do you understand?”
“Yes Missers Brown,” she said, much quieter. More vague threats. More to think about. How could she possibly avoid causing trouble when no matter what she did, it made Mrs. Brown unhappy?
They arrived at a small building with large windows in the front. She got out of the truck and looked up at the sign, which read simply “Brown's Home Health Supply”. She wondered if it was like a yakkixyoku
, where they sold medicine for sick people. Suddenly, her hand was grasped roughly and she was being pulled toward the door. She stumbled a little as she struggled to keep up with Mrs. Brown, who seemed to be in a big hurry. They entered the building, and it looked absolutely nothing like a yakkixyoku
at all. There were a few shelves with various bags and boxes on them and some very strange looking contraptions near what she recognized as a wheelchair. Two people were sitting at big desks, while a man was talking to a very old woman next to another sort of chair with wheels on it and what looked like motorbike handles in the front, with a basket attached.
She didn't have much time to survey the scene, as Mrs. Brown pulled her through another door and sat her down in a chair in front of a very big desk. “You will sit right there and not move until I come back. Do you understand?” Mrs. Brown said.
“Yes Missers Brown.” It was almost an automatic response at this point.
“Good. I'll be back soon.” With that, the woman gathered up some folders from the desk and walked out, closing the door behind her.
Yukari sat, hands folded, and looked around the room at all the plaques on the wall and the decorations and pictures. She noticed that there were many pictures of Mrs. Brown and Tommy and Vicky, or she supposed the ones of the very small girl were Vicky when she was much younger and not as fat as she was now. That was the scariest part about this morning, really, the older girl being a little taller than Mrs. Brown but much heavier, and how easily she was able to carry Vicky around like a little doll. She also noticed that there were no pictures of Mr. Mark anywhere in the room. This was very curious. She had never known her own father, so it wasn't surprising that the pictures in the apartment she and her mother lived in were all of her grandparents and cousins and uncles and aunts, and of her as a baby, but Mr. Mark lived with the family, so why wouldn't he be in any of their pictures?
Suddenly her concentration was broken by the one thing that terrified her the most right now; she had to pee. She cursed herself for not going to the bathroom before they left the house, and she tried to while the time by focusing on papers and things on the desk, trying to make out the English words she could remember; after all, she'd have to be able to read some in school, or else they might not let her attend at all. Slowly the time ticked by, and Yukari found herself crossing her legs back and forth, the ache in her bladder dominating her thoughts. Wetting her pants here would be terribly embarrassing for Mrs. Brown; surely she'd be more angry than she'd ever been if that happened, but how long could she hope to hold out? She started to watch the clock tick away, counting minutes, praying silently that whatever Mrs. Brown was doing would be over soon.
This time, her prayers were not answered. She felt the first spurt of pee hit her panties against her will, and she shuddered. Another dribble, and she grasped her pants with both hands. One more spurt came, and she bowed her head, giving up the fight as hot shame flowed freely, soaking her legs and bottom. All that was left now was to dread what horrible new punishment awaited her when Mrs. Brown finally returned.
That question was answered a lot faster than she expected. The door opened behind her and she flinched as the woman walked over to the desk. “I hope you... Oh my GOD!” Mrs. Brown said as she looked down at Yukari. “DON'T YOU MOVE!” she snapped, storming right back out of the office and slamming the door behind her. She returned a few minutes later with a plastic bag that looked similar to the one from which she had gotten the “pull-ups”, only this one was plain white and slightly bigger. In her other hand she an empty plastic bag. She jerked Yukari out of the chair by her upper arm.
“LAY DOWN ON THE FLOOR!” she shouted. Yukari silently complied, struggling against tears. “I can't BELIEVE a twelve-year-old girl can't go twenty minutes without peeing her pants!” she grumbled, roughly pulling Yukari's jeans and panties down her legs and stuffing them into the empty bag. From the other bag, much to Yukari's horror, Mrs. Brown pulled out and unfolded not another “pull-up”, but what clearly looked like an omutsu
! The fierce woman confirmed her fears rather quickly when she lifted Yukari's legs, slipped the noisy, rustling, white garment under her bottom, and taped it on her.
“There. You can wear DIAPERS like a BABY now,” Mrs. Brown said with a note of disgust. “You want to go to school in DIAPERS?”
“N... no Missers Brown,” Yukari protested, tears finally streaking down her cheeks, “P... prease no Yukari wear di... pers to school,” She had never been so humiliated in all her young life. As Mrs. Brown swiftly replaced Yukari's sneakers and pulled her to her feet, she realized this was about to get worse, not better.
Mrs. Brown grabbed Yukari's hand and began to pull her out the office door. Blushing fiercely, tears streaming down her face, Yukari staggered along behind the woman, rustling loudly with each step. They stopped suddenly, and Mrs. Brown looked over at a man sitting behind a desk.
“Troy, do me a favor and get two cases of the Attends youth briefs and meet me at my truck,” she said.
“Yes ma'am,” he answered, jumping up from the desk and walking quickly through another doorway. Mrs. Brown resumed pulling Yukari forward without warning, the girl staggering again behind her.
“Do I need to carry you?” the woman asked fiercely.
“N...no Missers Brown,” She dared not say anything else at this point, for fear of more yelling, but more because she could feel the stares of the few other people in the huge room that seemed much, much bigger now as she walked toward the entrance than when she came in the first time. She had no desire to extend the public display of her new underwear any longer than necessary. By the time she got buckled into the back seat of the truck and watched, horrified, as two huge boxes of what were very clearly more of these “diapers” were loaded behind her, she was quite certain that the kojiin
would have been a much happier place to be than this hell.